


We Get Some Rules To Follow

by MissMoochy



Series: MissMoochy's Bad Things Happen Bingo Oneshots [6]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, POV Foggy Nelson, Short One Shot, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Bad Things Happen bingo prompt: [Made A Slave]It's hard to be equals when the world seems intent on dividing you.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: MissMoochy's Bad Things Happen Bingo Oneshots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857715
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	We Get Some Rules To Follow

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not really a slavefic fan, but this was on my Bad Things Happen bingo board, so I thought I’d give it a go. My 50th Marvel fic, whoo!

It was inevitable, really. There were more mutants appearing every day. Some were born that way, others developed powers due to some freak accident. And some were forced.

There was a big expose done on a shadow organisation called Weapon X. How many bodies had passed through their doors, had walked in expecting help but instead had been subjected to torture and chemicals injected into their veins? Everybody knew Deadpool. They’d seen him in the news and glowering in mugshots. He was the poster boy for Weapon X torture. He’d been mutilated by them. And he’d gone mad.

There was a public outcry. Mutants were demanding changes to the current laws, they wanted more protection. They wanted to make sure that something like Weapon X could never happen again. Magneto was in the news every week. And the non-mutants? They were scared. They wanted to know exactly how many super-powered people were living amongst them. They wanted mutant registration, they wanted culpability. Vigilantes were running wild, and with more costumed whackjobs cropping up, the police were at their wit’s end.

So, yeah, it was a powder keg. Something was going to happen.

“Good morning."

Foggy glanced up, but not all the way. He didn’t sweep his gaze high enough to see the immaculate white shirt, or those beautiful, cut-glass cheekbones. The stubble was growing thicker now, a fuzzy blackish-brown that covered Matt’s jaw. He kept his eyes firmly trained on Matt’s long legs, covered in black slacks.

“Got you some breakfast.”

Matt drew closer, and dropped to his knees. Foggy jerked his eyes away so he didn’t have to see that face. Matt set the tray down on the floor and nudged it over.

“You’ve got to eat something. This isn’t like you.”

“I don’t feel like eating.”

Matt sighed. “Foggy, I know this is hard but I have a responsibility to look after you. I’m liable—”

And there is was, the powder keg.

“Oh, _you’re_ liable! That’s what matters to you, is it? That I’ll put a toe over the line and you’ll get in trouble, not me! I’m sitting, chained to the wall with a collar around my neck and you’re worried about you? You’re insane, seriously, you are the craziest person I’ve ever met and that’s not even mentioning those bullshit freaky powers you have—”

Matt punched the wall, just inches from Foggy’s head, and Foggy flinched. Matt sagged, slipped his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

“Shit, Foggy, I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of stress right now.”

Foggy pulled the tray towards himself, and shovelled scrambled egg in his mouth so he wouldn’t be expected to reply.

“This is really hard. I mean, we’re talking about an uprising. I want things to go back to how they were, I do. But—”

 _But you like it too much,_ Foggy thought. _You get to walk around, without hiding your powers. You get a bunch of new mutant friends. You get me._

Matt fiddled with his glasses, those big sad eyes not quite connecting with Foggy’s own watering gaze. “I’m sorry. I hate this. I wish I could walk down the street with you. I wish they’d give back your ID. I wish…I wish for so much…you have no idea…”

Foggy set the tray down and wiped his lips with the napkin. Aw, a napkin. As crisp and white as Matt’s shirt. What kind of slave owner is kind enough to offer their slave a _napkin?_ He crumpled it up in his fist.

“We were equals,” Foggy said and Matt nodded. “We were best friends. And now, I’m your glorified puppy. And that’s the law. If there’s, if there’s a corrupt policitian or something, you can have them removed from office. But this. It’s the government, Matt. It’s a new order. How could we overcome that? How can you change a system? And if you start quoting Thurgood Marshall at me, I’m going to throw this tray at your head.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said. “I deserve that. I don’t know, Foggy. I don’t know what to do, I wish I knew. But I’ve been talking to some people. Remember Jessica Jones? She wants to help. All we need to do is get enough people interested in discussion. Just a discussion. And then…we’ll see.”

“Yeah.” He suddenly felt tired, not physically so, just mentally. “Okay, Matt.”

Matt’s eyes were wide and dark. Foggy felt it somehow reassuring that even with his powers, Matt wasn’t able to look him fully in the eye. He supposed that was probably ableist thinking. But Matt had him at a distinct disadvantage, these days. So, maybe it was more like a concession, something to even out the playing field.

“Can I hug you?” Matt said suddenly and Foggy froze. Matt had been so careful. Foggy had to wear the collar, it was government-issued, something leftover from Weapon X, ironically. Cold metal, it chafed. Matt had tried to slip a handkerchief in there, so the metal wasn’t rubbing against Foggy’s skin but it kept falling out. It didn’t really matter. As mutants go, Matt was pretty lax. In the evenings, with the blinds drawn, they’d sit together and put a movie on. Foggy would narrate and Matt would laugh over his beer, leaning into him, his head on his shoulder. And sometimes, when Matt drifted off on the couch, he’d sleepily nuzzle Foggy’s face. Foggy reckoned that Matt wished he could have more than a hug. But you can’t really ask a slave for more…can you?

“Sure, buddy,” Foggy said and Matt flung himself at him, strong arms wrapping around him and a stubbly chin digging into his cheek. Matt hugged him like he was drowning and Foggy was a rubber ring. Hugged him like he wanted to expel the air from Foggy’s lungs with sheer pressure. Hugged him as if this one gesture could set everything right between them.

Matt clung to him, and Foggy held him back. Dug his fingers into the muscles of Matt’s back, just to see if he’d notice. Matt arched his back and the muscles rolled under his fingers. Matt was mumbling something, his lips brushing Foggy’s collarbone, and it wasn’t —but it felt a lot like — kissing.

“Oh, God, Foggy, I’d do everything differently if I could. And I hate this. I want you to be happy, I want so much for you. I like knowing you’re here? I don’t want you chained up—”

He doesn’t need superpowers to know a lie when he hears one.

“—but I like knowing you’re here, waiting for me. Does that make me a bad person?”

Foggy hummed thoughtfully into Matt’s hair, so he didn’t trigger that bullshit internal lie detector.

There’s talk of a second uprising. One to claw back control from the mutants. If that happens, Matt won’t be spared. He’ll be imprisoned or killed with all the other mutants. Foggy sat there, and stroked Matt’s face and wished he could find it in himself to care.


End file.
